


Operation Christmas

by OneWhoSitsWithTurtles



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Christmas, Family, Fluff, M/M, Post-Movie, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-27
Updated: 2010-12-27
Packaged: 2017-10-14 04:05:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/145168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneWhoSitsWithTurtles/pseuds/OneWhoSitsWithTurtles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Unbeknown to Arthur and Eames, Cobb has recruited the team and his children for Operation Christmas at his home. Everyone has decided that it’s time Arthur see what everyone else sees between Eames and Arthur. Arthur/Eames</p>
            </blockquote>





	Operation Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> **You can check out[here](http://onewhositswiththeturtles.tumblr.com/) to follow my Tumblr for info about me and story updates.**
> 
> Pairing: Arthur/Eames; hints of Cobb/Ariadne if you want to see it that way
> 
> Note: I’m aware that not everyone celebrates Christmas, but I really wanted to write a Christmas-themed ficlet. I hope everyone enjoyed their holidays this year, no matter what they celebrate :)

“Arthur!” Cobb greeted, sounding surprised but pleased. “We weren’t sure if you were coming—”

 

“Uncle Arthur! Uncle Arthur!” Two young voices chorused out, cutting Dom off. Before Arthur could do much more than brace himself on the snow-slicked front porch, James and Phillipa had dashed past Dom to wrap their arms around Arthur’s legs.

 

The Point Man chuckled warmly and passed his parcels and travel bag into the Extractor’s waiting hands so that he could hold the two young Cobb children closer; one hand on each small back. “Hi guys, good to see you.” Arthur wasn’t used to being around children and was always uncomfortable with how small and fragile they seemed to be. But Dom had always trusted him with his children, and he was careful to not let his employer and friend down. “Let’s go inside where it’s warm.”

 

James and Phillipa both grinned and nodded, but kept their arms twined around his legs. Arthur struggled to take a step into the house, managing two stumbling steps before Cobb intervened. “Alright, you two, get back inside. I don’t think we should leave Yusuf alone with the pie, do you?”

 

“He’s going to burn it!” Phillipa cried out and detached herself to run inside excitedly. James giggled, probably filled with sugar, and dashed in after his sister.

 

“Sorry about that,” Dom stepped backwards into the house for Arthur to step into the front entryway.

 

Arthur pushed the door closed behind him and peeled off his heavy woollen coat, which was coated in a thin layer of melting snowflakes. He hung up the coat and his hat before brushing away the wrinkles in his tailored pants that had been created from the children’s small clutching fingers. “It’s fine, Dom, don’t worry,” he smiled happily as he heard Phillipa calling out instructions off in the kitchen. He took his parcels and bag back from Cobb carefully, following the man’s lead towards the living room. “Are you sure this is safe, though?”

 

It had been seven months since the Fischer job, and everyone had agreed to lie low for a while to remain safe. Dom had not had any issue with that, busy making up lost time with his children, and Ariadne had been busy finishing up her degree at university. From what his research had told him, Yusuf had returned to Mombasa and his work, Saito had continued being one of the richest businessmen alive, and Eames had taken a few light jobs in the East. Arthur himself was antsy to get back to work but had been cautious. That, and even though he would never try to persuade Cobb away from his children, he was curious to see if the man would return to dream working.

 

“It’ll be fine, Arthur,” Cobb sent him an exasperated look as they arrived by the tree. “We’ve all been careful, none of us are on any watch lists, and I’m legal. For once I think you’re over-worrying,” Dom promised him as Arthur ducked down to set the few small parcels he had brought under the tree and to place his travel bag in a corner out of the way.

 

“I’m sure you’re right,” Arthur conceded as he straightened, taking in the magnificent sight of the tree. The Cobbs had a beautiful house that took your breath away; Mallorie had made sure of that. All of the rooms were high-ceilinged and stippled with different designs. The furniture was lush and comfortable, while the heavy curtains and walls were deep, rich colours. Even the woods used in the chairs, tables, and staircase were luxuriously dark and polished.

 

The tree itself was unlikely to fit in any house with lower ceilings, towering over the dream workers and the rest of the furniture. There were ropes of beads that sparkled in the sunlight, multicoloured strings of lights hidden further into the branches and a glowing star at the top. He could also see many delicate ornaments spread across the tree, many of them undoubtedly holding sentimental value, and closer to the base of the tree where the kids could reach there were strings of popcorn. “Beautiful tree, isn’t it?” Cobb asked him softly.

 

“It’s gorgeous. It always is...” he trailed off, memories of his last Christmas here resurfacing. Mal had been there, looking radiant in her dress, and Dom looking as though he might just burst due to happiness. Phillipa had been almost four then; old enough to trail along behind her mother gleefully while decked out in a red satin dress. James had been much younger, barely two, and had been content for people to coddle and cart him around the house until he fell asleep. Things were different now. Mal was noticeably absent and the children were old enough to understand that now – nearing seven and five. “How are you?”

 

“I’m alright. _Seriously_ ,” Cobb pressed when he saw Arthur’s glance. “It was hard coming back to this empty house. The tree was especially painful,” the man grimaced, eyes fixated on the tree. “But I’m just grateful to be with James and Phillipa again, and for them to be able to have a Christmas in this house again. It’s been hard on them too, but I think they’re glad to be back here again. Mal’s parents are flying over to visit for New Years.”

 

Arthur placed a hesitant hand on Cobb’s closest shoulder, hoping to convey his sympathy and comfort. “They’re strong, just like you,” was all he could think to say.

 

“Thanks, Arthur. I’m really glad you came; I was worried you might not,” Dom did not shrug his hand away, finally pulling those sharp eyes from the tree to regard the Point Man.

 

Arthur could only shrug, not wanting to admit how undecided he had been right up until he had knocked on the door with the engraved brass knocker. “Is everyone here now?”

 

“Not quite,” Cobb smirked as they heard another resolute knock at the door. The Extractor checked his phone quickly and Arthur noticed the man’s eyebrows furrowing. “Come on.”

 

Not wanting to be rude, Arthur followed the order and trailed behind Dom to the front door. When the door fell open, a few stray snowflakes blowing into the hallway, he raised his own eyebrow in confusion. “Mr. Cobb?” the middle-aged man in a deliveries outfit asked, glancing up from a clipboard.

 

“Uh, yes, that’s me,” Cobb glanced back at Arthur, who could only shrug uselessly.

 

“I have a delivery here for you from Mr. Saito. He demanded that they be delivered today.” The courier man looked unimpressed about working on Christmas day, but seemed content. Arthur assumed his pay check was the reason for that. “This is the first box,” the man pushed one large, pre gift wrapped box into Cobb’s hands, “and the second.” The man shoved the second packaged box into Arthur’s arms quickly, who silently thanked his training as he felt the full weight of the box. “Have a great holiday,” the courier finally smiled and, when he saw that they were both overburdened, pulled the door closed for them.

 

Cobb glanced over his box at Arthur. Everything below the man’s grey eyes was hidden but Arthur could see the shock and annoyance in the man’s eyebrows. “That man is trying to spoil my kids rotten. Christmas will be unbearable after this,” Dom grumbled before awkwardly shrugging towards the general direction of the living room.

 

Taking the hint, Arthur spun in place – the edges of the box skimming the wallpaper – and retraced his steps towards the living room. He set his box down in a corner, seeing that it was addressed to ‘James Cobb’, and stepped out of the way for Dom to stack the box for ‘Phillipa Cobb’ beside it. “Merry Christmas—what on earth are _those_?” Ariadne exclaimed, quickly forgetting about her greeting.

 

Arthur glanced over to the doorframe that the young Architect was framed in, happy to see her after half a year apart. The girl had her hair tied up in a messy bun, strands falling onto flour-covered shoulders, and was wielding a dressing-covered spoon in one hand and tongs in the other. Ariadne had a stylish pair of dress pants on and a soft-looking blouse; luckily her outfit had been saved while she was working in the kitchen. Arthur was surprised to see that she was sporting a worn apron with the proclamation ‘ _Kiss the Cook_ ’ since Mal used to wear it, but didn’t comment on it – especially when Cobb glanced over at her affectionately and clearly content. 

 

“Saito sent them over,” Dom groaned, brushing his hair back in exasperation. The Extractor knew without a doubt that he could do nothing about the gifts the moment that Phillipa and James trotted in behind Ariadne to see what was going on. There was a chorus of delighted squealing and the Cobb children were quickly across the carpeted floor to prod their gifts. “Not until after dinner,” Cobb warned them, failing epically at the stern parent tone.

 

“Yeah, yeah,” James babbled, both children pouting expertly but finally removing their hands from the tempting wrapping.

 

“I think I need two expert chefs to help me in the kitchen,” Ariadne proclaimed loftily, pouting just as effectively as the children to draw their attention.

 

“Oh, me! Me!” they both waved a hand around, energetic as they stood up and rushed back into the kitchen. Ariadne sent Arthur and Dom a smug look before disappearing back into the kitchen behind the two children.

 

Dom and Arthur followed her into the kitchen, looking for something to do. Ariadne was already back to work, having replaced the tongs with a can opener to work on the cranberry sauce. The lid rolled away on the counter and she set down the can opener triumphantly before spinning to pull Arthur into a tight embrace. Despite the fact that he was never entirely comfortable with close physical contact, he allowed the hug and returned it weakly. He had always had a soft spot in his heart for the Architect, and he had already dropped his discomfort towards physical closeness in preparation for the Cobb children.

 

“I’ve missed you!” Ariadne grinned when she pulled away, turning back to her work. “How are you doing these days?”

 

“Glad to see all of you again,” he admitted. He tried to keep his tone relatively impersonal – professional – but didn’t mind if he didn’t completely succeed. “And looking forward to getting back to work.”

 

“Tell me about it!” Ariadne groaned, staining her cheek with cranberry juice when she attempted to brush some stray hair from her face. “I’m glad I got my university degree done, but I’ve been _dying_ to get back into dream work. It’s like...” she waved the wooden spoon around while searching for the right word, “like an itch, you know?” Arthur nodded, and saw Cobb give a tiny nod of his own. “I’ve been bugging Dom about starting up again; something legal, of course.”

 

“Oh?” Arthur raised an eyebrow, standing by the doorframe to remain out of the way until there was a job he could help with.

 

He watched Cobb’s back curiously as his friend hoisted James up to sit on the counter. Dom had grabbed a bowl out of one of the cabinets and set it beside his son, explaining the process for preparing the cranberry sauce – “And be careful of the sharp rim at the top of the can,” Dom repeated for the sixth time during the explanation. He noticed how the Extractor pointedly avoided the topic of dream work.

 

Ariadne had no such qualms. “Oh yeah, well after I finished my last semester, I took Dom up on his offer to visit. If I’m honest - which I’ll have to be because Dom would never admit it – he needed some help settling in. Our fearless leader is an excellent father but has no motherly instincts.”

 

“I don’t think I should be expected to,” Cobb griped, but didn’t look terribly upset.

 

“I saved the pie, daddy!” Phillipa exclaimed proudly as she dashed into the kitchen from the dining room. She had a pie clutched between both hands and everything seemed to suddenly happen in a rush. Arthur watched as the girl’s socks slipped on the linoleum and toppled forward, the pie soaring. He ducked for her first, catching her with the hook of his right arm to keep her from hitting the floor. Then he reached up, not holding much hope, but clasping just enough of the bottom edge of the pie tray to catch it in his left palm. “Uncle Arthur saved the pie!” Phillipa corrected.

 

The kitchen was frozen and silent for a moment, everyone blinking in shock at the Point Man and Arthur simply thanking his training again for the second time in thirty minutes. He hoisted Phillipa up carefully; the girl was still small enough for him to pull her up with just one arm. Then he handed Cobb the pie, who set it on a high shelf out of danger. “Are you alright?” Arthur asked Phillipa, trying to unfreeze the moment.

 

“Uh-huh,” Phillipa grinned, still hanging off his arm gleefully. The sound of Cobb’s phone ringing seemed to get everyone back in motion and Phillipa relinquished his arm. “Daddy, you need to come. Uncle Yusuf is doing the cookies all wrong,” was all she said before heading back out towards the dining room – slipping around in her socks without a care in the world.

 

Dom had checked his phone and slipped it back into his pocket quickly, on his way to follow Phillipa when James spoke softly. “Daddy?”

 

Arthur and Dom both glanced back to find most of the cranberry sauce in the bowl, but also a fair helping across James’s cheeks and chin. Phillipa called Dom again and the Extractor sent him a pleading look. “Would you mind?”

 

“No, I’ll get him cleaned up,” Arthur offered easily; he had chosen to wear this particular suit with the intention of getting it dirty. Dom sent him a thankful smile before heading into the dining room. Arthur stepped closer to James, who smiled through the mess on his face and held his arms out pleadingly, always the child who loved being carried. He scooped James up carefully, holding him while the boy snuggled close and linked his arms around Arthur’s neck. Just then there was a knock at the door and Ariadne glanced at him guilty, in the process of checking the turkey. “I’ll get it,” he sighed.

 

“Thanks, Arthur!” Ariadne grinned and went back to work.

 

Arthur adjusted his grip on James and headed for the front door, carefully using one hand to pull the front door open. The cold air and snowflakes hit him quickly, the wind having picked up in a short time, but that was not what froze him in place. All he could do was blink and stare stupidly as Eames grinned at him from the porch. “Hello, darling; aren’t you going to invite me in?”

 

Arthur wasn’t sure why his brain wasn’t working, but he couldn’t think of anything to say. Instead, he stepped back, tightening his grip on a wiggling James when the child set his gaze on the Forger. “Uncle Eames!” James giggled, holding onto Arthur with one hand while reaching towards the Englishman with his other hand.

 

“Hi there James,” Eames beamed as he stepped out of the cold and closed the door, quickly shedding his jacket. “Aren’t you the most handsome thing ever?” Arthur cleared his throat when Eames glanced at him while praising James. Eames ruffled the boy’s hair and Arthur quickly tensed when the Forger’s fingers skimmed down Arthur’s neck accidentally – sending a surprised shiver through him. Arthur wanted to ask how Eames knew James and vice versa but decided it wasn’t the right moment; he was too busy holding onto James, who was making an adorably shy burbling sound. “What’s the matter, pet?” Eames turned his attention to the Point Man once his mitts and hat were removed. “Don’t tell me I took your breath away.”

 

Arthur rolled his eyes at the flirtatious wink he received. He felt more comfortable and in his element now that things were back to the way they had been during their last job. After seven months apart, for some reason, his mind hadn’t known how to respond to the Forger. “I can’t believe you flew all the way from Moscow for this,” he stated instead.

 

“Ah, so you _were_ tracking me,” Eames’s smile turned smug.

 

Caught, and not knowing what to say to that, Arthur adjusted James in his arms. “I need to go clean James up; Ariadne is in the kitchen at the end of the hall,” he directed, walking away at a quick pace before the Forger could respond.

 

He set James down on the bathroom counter and cleaned him up quickly, wiping sticky cranberry sauce away with the same efficiency he directed towards everything else in his life. Arthur had never thought of being a father, nor could he think of anyone he would _want_ to raise a child with, but he had to admit to himself that he enjoyed helping Cobb with his children. Once he was finished, James immediately threw his arms out again, begging to be carried. He picked the boy up easily but paused for a moment when he caught his gaze in the mirror.

 

The Point Man had to remind himself that Eames was just teasing – that was all he ever did. Arthur just had to take things as they came and not get too agitated. He was incredibly surprised that Eames had travelled so far from the last place Arthur had found information on him, but he wasn’t really upset that Cobb had invited him or that Eames had taken the offer. Maybe it was just the desire to spend the holidays with others, but Arthur had to admit that he had missed Eames along with the rest of the team. It was good to see him again, despite the irritation. The teasing flirtations were...familiar – something he had taken for granted until they were gone.

 

By the time he returned to the kitchen, everyone was crammed into the room. The kitchen was normally quite spacious, but it seemed claustrophobic with so many people now. He set James down beside Phillipa, who was on her tip toes watching Ariadne work on the mashed potatoes. Arthur could smell shortbread in the air and assumed Cobb had set things right. He crossed the cramped room to greet Yusuf and shake his hand before getting hustled out of the way by Dom, who was setting rolls of bread into a basket. “So you got put on dessert duty?” Arthur prompted conversationally.

 

Yusuf groaned and ran his fingers through his hair. “Just because I can mix and measure chemicals does _not_ mean I can properly make pies and cookies from scratch. It was a near disaster.”

 

“But I helped!” Phillipa chimed in proudly, having abandoned the counter to beam up at Yusuf. James got tugged along behind his older sister, Phillipa keeping a close hold on her brother.

 

“Yes you did,” Eames picked her up, hands carefully hooked under her arms, and spun her around. “Phillipa was telling me _all_ about it,” the Forger spoke to Arthur in a stage whisper, barely heard over the girl’s delighted shrieks.

 

“Me! Me!” James hopped up and down, Cobb weaving around him.

 

Eames chuckled. “Alright.” He set Phillipa down gently before picking James up in a similar fashion and spinning him around, pulling out a similar squeal of enjoyment. Arthur quickly found himself falling speechless again while he watched Eames with Cobb’s children. He had never thought the Forger would be good with kids – too flirtatious, lewd, and irresponsible – but was quickly being proven wrong.

 

“Eames, could you take them out into the living room to play? They opened a few presents this morning that they can play with. Dinner will be ready in about thirty minutes,” Cobb implored the Forger, rushing back to the stove after shoved the finished rolls and cranberry sauce towards Yusuf to set aside.

 

“Uncle Arthur, too!” Both children yelled loudly, both of them settled safely on the floor again.

 

Arthur saw the rest of the kitchen smirk to themselves but was distracted by Phillipa holding his hand and leading him insistently towards the living room. James pulled Eames along behind them, both kids just as skilled at manipulating the adults to their whims as Dom and Mal had been. It was a dangerous future for any target of dream workers if Cobb ever allowed them to get involved.

 

Arthur and Eames were seated side by side on the carpet in front of one of the couches while the children began digging around under the tree. He felt Eames’s knee brush his own but didn’t shift away; he had forced himself to prepare for physical contact today, so an innocent brushing of knees did not seem worth the energy to move. It helped that Eames wasn’t making a big deal of it, instead leaning forward eagerly to see what the Cobb children had gotten in the morning.

 

Phillipa was sliding a large dollhouse into view; it reminded Arthur of Mal’s old dollhouse, but had had some additions. “This was Mommy’s. Daddy fixed it up and passed it down to me,” Phillipa stated proudly, carefully undoing the latches to slide the house apart. “He told me that I was responsible enough to take care of it now.”

 

“I’m sure you’ll do a wonderful job,” Arthur praised, swallowing down the small lump that suddenly seemed to be lodged in his throat. He was surprised but proud of how Dom was staying strong and handling this adjustment so well, and how Phillipa and James were coping.

 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Eames glance over at him for a long moment before returning his attention to Phillipa. The girl was pulling out small dolls that had been strewn around the dollhouse. “Let’s play House!” she proclaimed excitedly. “You can be the daddy,” she pressed one doll into Eames’s hand, “And you can be the mommy,” she pressed another into Arthur’s hand.

 

“Why am I the mommy?” Arthur mumbled dejectedly as he looked over the doll with long hair and a noticeable skirt, pulling an amused laugh from the Forger.

 

Phillipa just giggled and shrugged. “You make a good team, just like my Mommy and Daddy were.” Both dream workers stared at the girl in surprise and Arthur could see a small smile sneaking onto Eames’s lips. “Mommies are great, too,” she added when Arthur didn’t respond.

 

“Yeah, Arthur, enough sexism,” Eames scoffed, shoving him playfully.

 

“I’m not being sexist,” he ground out, forcing down the blush he knew had developed at Phillipa’s comments. The girl had grown bored of their banter, not understanding some of the words they were using, and had returned her attention to the dollhouse. “But I’m clearly not a ‘mommy’,” he emphasized with a broad hand motion across his form, as if saying ‘See?’

 

“I think you’d make a great mommy,” Eames teased, smiling in his face and far too close for Arthur’s comfort. “Now,” the Forger spoke again before Arthur could get a word in edgewise, “Are you going to be my better half, or are you going to sulk?”

 

The Point Man felt something equally thrilling and discomforting churn in his stomach, like a flock of butterflies hatching and searching for an escape. “As long as you acknowledge that I’m the better half,” he shot back challengingly before shuffling over to the dollhouse to indulge Phillipa.

 

Eames chuckled and joined him by the dollhouse, playing along with Phillipa’s fantasy. It didn’t last long though, because James quickly ran over to steal their attention. The youngest Cobb had been happily colouring in a colouring book under the tree, but now he wanted a critic. “Do you like?” he questioned nervously, spreading the booklet open to show off his two new drawings.

 

Eames gasped dramatically and pretended to faint, falling back against Arthur’s side by accident. The Forger picked himself up again after a moment and grinned. “Masterpieces!” he proclaimed, earning a delighted grin from James.

 

“I especially love the colours you used,” Arthur chimed in, pushing Eames away lightly.

 

“What do you say, James?” Dom prompted warmly. Arthur had not noticed when the Extractor had begun watching them from the doorframe of the kitchen.

 

“Thank you!” James mumbled, suddenly shy.

 

Arthur watched Dom smile proudly. “Alright, you too, time to get washed up for dinner.”

 

There was a chorus of ‘awww’s and ‘do we have to’s before the two Cobb children followed Dom upstairs. With nothing else to do, Arthur began collecting all of the dollhouse items and set them back in place, doing his best to clean up. Eames stood up to put away the pool of crayons that James had spread across the carpet. They worked in silence for a few minutes before the Point Man’s curiosity got the best of him. “How do you know Phillipa and James?”

 

“I was wondering how long you could last before asking that,” Eames smirked across the room at him, struggling to fit all of the crayons back into their container. Arthur merely raised an expectant eyebrow. “Well, I visited Cobb a few months back and Ariadne and the kids were at home when I stopped by so I played with them for a while.”

 

“But why did you come here?” Arthur asked. He had not caught Eames’s visit to the United States when tracking the man, so it must not have been a long stay, but he felt jealous all the same. Arthur had been rather desperate to see his team again but had remained distant to keep everyone safe. But now it seemed like he was the only one who had gone the whole seven months alone. Yusuf and Eames had seen one another in Mombasa, Ariadne had been here since she graduated, and Eames had seen the Architect, the Extractor, and his kids during his visit.

 

He was surprised when the Forger let out a weary, steadying sigh. “As pathetic as I know it sounds, I was looking for you.”

 

“Me?” Arthur blinked, forgetting about the dollhouse entirely.

 

“We’re not all as skilled as you at tracking people down, darling,” Eames spoke softly, forcing Arthur to strain to hear him. “You had changed your number and I figured Cobb of all people would have your new number, or at least know where you were. But you must have just changed your number again when I arrived because Dom’s contact information was out of date. Nor, might I add, did he know where in the world you were.”

 

“But why were you looking for me?” Arthur asked in his confusion. “Did you have a job offer?”

 

“It doesn’t really matter anymore, pet,” Eames shrugged, finally finishing with the crayons and setting them back under the tree. This spurred Arthur back into action and he finished cleaning up the dollhouse, placing it out of the way of the currently-unopened presents. “Let’s go get ready for dinner.”

 

Arthur was plagued with the feeling that he was missing something but pushed it away as he headed for the main floor bathroom to wash his hands. Eames headed for the kitchen sink, but they ended up meeting in the hallway outside of the dining hall. With nothing to say, Arthur stepped past the Forger silently into the dining room. He saw, with mild annoyance, that everyone else was already seated, and that there were only two empty chairs remaining. Dom was sitting between Phillipa and James on one side, Yusuf and Ariadne seated at each end, and the two chairs on the opposite side of the table left open for the two remaining dream workers.

 

Feeling conspired against, Arthur took one seat and forced himself to calm down as Eames took the seat beside him – always too close. Once everyone was seated, Dom stood up and headed into the kitchen to bring the turkey out to place in the middle of the table. Everything was passed around in a circle for people to take what they wanted, everyone chatting cheerfully, and Arthur was strung tighter every time Eames brushed his hand with his own when handing him a dish of food. He wasn’t sure what about the Forger drove him insane so easily, but he was starting to question his earlier belief that seeing Eames again was a good thing.

 

The food was good though, and the company – more or less – was relaxing to have around. Even though Arthur always considered himself somewhat of a loner, never really dire for social contact, he couldn’t deny how calming it was for him to have his team of friends surrounding him again. Even Eames, once Arthur had had time to push the odd conversation in the living room to the back of his mind, was enjoyable to have around. The Forger, true to his skills, did a string of impersonations that had even Arthur laughing by the end.

 

Once everyone was stuffed full of food and the pie had been devoured, everyone pitched in an effort to move all of the dirty dishes into the kitchen and package away all of the leftovers into Cobb’s fridge. They managed to fit a good portion of the dirty dishes into the dishwasher, but there was still a significant countertop full of dishes to wash in the sink. Arthur filled the sink and began the job but was quickly hustled out into the living room again with Eames, being told to entertain the kids again.

 

As much as he enjoyed playing with James and Phillipa, Arthur had a distinct impression that he was being herded around for a reason. He couldn’t complain though, especially when Eames led them all into the den beside the living room to put on cartoons for the kids. Arthur relaxed into the soft cushions of the couch but tensed when Eames wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer. Before he could question the action or protest though, Eames removed his arm again and the Cobb children careened into the space he had been occupying seconds previous.

 

Without anything to really argue about, Arthur settled on the couch again as the cartoons began. The Forger was like a furnace beside him, radiating heat, and with the sound of the frigid wind howling outside the house, Arthur realized that it wasn’t entirely unpleasant to sit next to Eames. They weren’t even through one episode of the cartoon Phillipa and James had chosen when Arthur heard Ariadne call him to the kitchen.

 

He extracted himself from the couch regretfully and headed towards the kitchen. “Wait, stay there!” Ariadne blurted out when he stepped into the doorframe of the kitchen, holding a hand out in the classic ‘stop’ signal. “Hang on one moment...” she mumbled as she peeked into the fridge, looking for who knew what.

 

“What do you need?” he forced himself to remain patient as he watched Yusuf duck out through a different doorframe and Dom pull some glasses from the cabinets.

 

“Hang on, hang on...” the Architect kept digging through the fridge. Arthur sighed and leaned against the doorframe, which was nowhere near as comfortable as his place on the couch had been.

 

In a quick moment, Eames was behind him in the hall, the kids trailing along. “Yusuf said something about shortbread cookies,” the Forger looked around excitedly as he tried to push past Arthur through the doorframe.

 

Dom turned around then, setting some glasses on the counter, and pointed at Arthur and Eames accusingly. They were both stuck in the doorframe, not enough room for both of them, and they both froze when Dom barked out, “Stop right there.”

 

“What?” Eames glanced around, clearly just as confused as Arthur was. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Mistletoe,” Ariadne provided with a victorious smirk.

 

Arthur watched as she pointed above their heads and then glanced up himself. “That wasn’t there earlier,” he accused quietly, not happy with where this was headed.

 

“Of course it was,” Yusuf chipped in, in the hallway with the kids and looking entirely too smug.

 

“No it wasn’t!” Arthur blurted out, feeling cornered. It didn’t help that Eames’s body was still pressed up against his own in the doorframe, even though they had both relaxed to remove themselves from their jam. “The package is _right there_ in the recycling bin!”

 

He sent a desperate look towards his friend and employer, expecting him to act as the protective, overbearing brother the one time he truly needed it. But Dom looked pleased and very unhelpful. “So maybe I forgot about it earlier, but traditions are traditions,” the Extractor shrugged, useless.

 

“I don’t think this is really appropriate for the kids,” Arthur hissed, grappling for any viable excuse to escape this bizarre situation.

 

“What, two guys kissing? You know me better than that, Arthur,” Dom frowned at him. “And it’s important for them to understand and believe in traditions.”

 

Arthur was about to expel the next excuse that came to mind, but Eames spoke first. “Geez, darling, you act like I’m pure poison.”

 

The Point Man’s attention flashed to the Forger quickly, every other traitorous team member fading into the background. He scrutinized Eames for a long moment, trying to determine if the man was acting – showing him only what he thought would effectively get Arthur to agree – or whether Eames was portraying himself honestly. The Forger’s tone had sounded strained and hurt, as well as weary. Eames’s eyes, when Arthur dared chance a look at those captivating irises, were downcast and dull, and the man’s shoulders drooped sadly. Eames looked genuinely hurt and disappointed.

 

“It’s not that--” he whispered helplessly, feeling terrible. And it was true, he admitted to himself – the thought of kissing Eames really didn’t horrify him the way he thought it would. He knew that the kiss was just supposed to be for fun, and that none of his friends standing around him would judge him negatively for kissing a guy, but Arthur had never been one for casual contact or kissing, even for fun.

 

More often than not, Arthur classified himself as asexual. True, whenever he chose a partner, he always chose a guy, but he tried to avoid that whole section of social interaction whenever possible. A casual fling always left him feeling empty at the end of it, and it was too dangerous to consider a long term relationship. In his profession, he would leave his partner at home with no indication of when or even _if_ he would return, which would be unfair to both of them. And he had never really met anyone he thought he could tolerate for more than a month tops, beyond the dream working team surrounding him.

 

“Well what is it, then?” Ariadne pressed him from beside the counter, the fridge long since closed.

 

Arthur glanced around nervously, trapped, and then got caught in Eames’s gaze again. The Forger was watching him carefully, still looking hurt but also looking understanding. “Leave him alone, all of you,” Eames sent a warning glare to all of the surrounding adults. The protective look Eames sent him a moment later shocked Arthur and he felt a wave of grateful affection bubble up inside him. “If he’s not comfortable, then that’s fine.”

 

Eames began sliding away from Arthur, trying to get out of the doorframe and give him some space. Before the Point Man knew what he was doing, he had placed a stilling hand on the Forger’s shoulder and whispered, “Okay.”

 

He blamed the action on his gratitude for Eames’s understanding, as well as the flock of butterflies living in his stomach. Arthur was even surer of that when Eames froze and stared back at him, the fluttering in his stomach rising to set his heart racing. “Okay?” Eames whispered back – hesitant.

 

“I’ll kiss you,” Arthur stated, trying to keep his voice steady. “It is a tradition, after all,” he added shyly.

 

Eames smiled at him warmly and stepped back into the doorframe. There was no space between them and Arthur couldn’t find a reason to complain. He found it hard to breathe as Eames raised both hands up and cupped Arthur’s face tenderly, fingers splayed across his burning cheeks. Arthur felt his eyes flutter closed when Eames’s calloused fingers stroked his cheekbones, his jaw line, and then one brave thumb traced his bottom lip.

 

Their onlookers fell into the back of his mind, as did the thought that Eames was being far more intimate and affectionate than a mistletoe kiss demanded. The Forger’s thumb dropped away to tilt his chin up and then Eames’s lips were on his – shy, wet, and warm. For a moment Arthur didn’t know what to do, the expectations of the level of a mistletoe kiss and his desires conflicting. Then he decided to hell with it all, because Eames felt wonderful against him and Arthur wanted more.

 

The Point Man placed his hands firmly on Eames’s shoulders, pulling the other man closer as he hesitantly, oh so timidly began returning the kiss. Eames’s lips had been still, but when the Forger felt him respond, he eagerly began kissing Arthur in a way he had never experienced or expected. He was amazed at how easily their lips began dancing in synchrony, and how quickly his heart was flying.

 

Eames’s lips were so full against his own, moving perfectly to meet Arthur’s shy movements and draw him deeper into the kiss. The way their lips felt together had his whole body tingling and vibrating, and it was all he could do to press himself closer. His mind was screaming for oxygen but he was blatantly ignoring it. It was only when Eames gently nipped his lower lip that Arthur pulled away with a gasp, senses overloading.

 

He knew he was blushing furiously; he could feel his cheeks tingling with warmth under Eames’s fingers and palms. He also knew that his lips were probably red and swollen, just as Eames’s were when Arthur stared at the Forger. He could see that Eames’s eyes were hazy, and that there was a lazy smile playing on the lips he had just felt against his own. But then Arthur glanced around the room, taking in the shocked and triumphant looks. He saw Phillipa and James, blinking up at them with big round eyes, and that did him in. Arthur stepped away from Eames’s warm body and excused himself to the washroom, feeling confused and flustered.

 

Eames let him go, which he was grateful for, and he hurriedly locked himself in the washroom. Arthur turned on the taps and splashed some water on his face before he stared at himself in the mirror, trying to figure out what had just happened. He was surprised at how content and giddy that simple kiss had made him, body still thrumming with energy.

 

Arthur had always thought Eames was rather attractive, but had never considered the Forger as anything more than a skilled team member and an unexpected friend. Besides, the flirting that Eames sent his way was not meant to be anything more than teasing – it would be embarrassing and unprofessional for him to assume it was more. He nodded to himself in the mirror, solidifying this thought even as he felt his chest clench painfully. It was just a mistletoe kiss and it would be better for him to not consider Eames further in this way if he didn’t want to get hurt.

 

Feeling more centred (downcast), Arthur exited the washroom in search of everyone else. He didn’t have far to go as he saw everyone congregating in the front hallway, Yusuf slipping his hat and coat on. “Leaving already?” he asked, still feeling a little embarrassed.

 

He startled everyone, who had not heard him step behind them. They parted to give Arthur room to get to the front door though, so that Arthur could shake Yusuf’s hand. “Yes, unfortunately, I have an appointment with a fellow chemist tomorrow in Mexico City. We’re collaborating on a new compound, which I will be sure to keep you posted on,” the man promised as he did up his coat.

 

“That goes for all of us, I hope,” Cobb spoke from the back of the throng of people, James in his arms and Phillipa standing beside him.

 

Everyone raised an eyebrow at the Extractor’s words; it sounded like the man was leaning towards returning to dream work. “Definitely,” Yusuf chuckled past his surprise. “Eames, I’m sure I’ll run into you again in Mombasa sometime soon,” the Chemist shook the Forger’s hand, who was standing beside Arthur.

 

“Yeah mate, safe mixing and travels,” Eames returned the handshake and retook his place by Arthur’s side.

 

Yusuf called out his final greetings, giving Ariadne and the kids quick hugs before braving the outdoors. Arthur shivered while the door was open, noticing the growing drifts of snow on Cobb’s front lawn. “Well I think it’s time to open presents,” Dom stated loudly, quickly being drowned out by Phillipa and James cheering and heading back towards the tree.

 

“You coming, darling?” Eames asked him softly, watching him uncertainly.

 

There was no follow up kiss and no unnecessary contact. Arthur felt one final, painful clench in his chest that made him feel slightly sick, and then nodded. He followed Eames into the living room, taking a seat beside the man on one of the couches but feeling like there was a world of distance between them now. Eames was back to the way he always treated Arthur, clearly not taking the kiss as anything more than a holiday tradition. And that was fine with Arthur; he was used to avoiding romantic relationships.

 

He began growing more content while he watched the Cobb children rip open the presents that had ended up under the tree for them. Saito’s gifts definitely won over everyone else’s – a box full of electronic cars and building sets for James, and a box full of gorgeous dresses and two carefully wrapped china dolls for Phillipa – but everything delighted the two kids. The dream workers exchanged gifts as well and Eames promised to pass Arthur’s gift along to Yusuf when he was back in Mombasa.

 

Arthur assumed his gift was the last when he handed it over to Eames, trying to hide how anxious he was to see if the Forger would like it. “You didn’t have to get me anything, doll,” Eames scoffed lightly but didn’t put up further protest as he accepted the gift.

 

“I know,” the Point Man didn’t quite sit back against the back of the couch, tense. He watched as Eames carefully unwound the ribbon holding the box closed and removed the lid. Eames was silent, as was the rest of the room, as the man pulled two tickets from the box to inspect them. Even though Arthur often kept rather silent, he felt his nerves begin to drag words haphazardly from his throat before he could control the urge. “I remember you talking on our last job; you said you had always been dying to see ‘ _Carmen_ ’ but had never got the chance. Well, there’s a rather famous theatre in Spain putting it on in February so I bought you two tickets to go see it and take someone special with you to share it with.”

 

Arthur finally cut himself off, realizing that he was rambling. Eames was staring at him while the rest of the room had suddenly found something else to hold their attention. “I can’t believe you even remember that, darling,” Eames spoke softly as he returned the tickets to the box carefully. “I always thought you just ignored me.”

 

“I only ignore you when you’re being obnoxious,” he confessed with a small smile, picking at invisible lint on his pants – anything to avoid Eames’s questing gaze.

 

“And that’s not all the time?” Eames pressed, a tiny smile blooming on those addicting lips.

 

Arthur rolled his eyes and glanced over at the Forger, barely holding in his laughter. “Not _all_ the time, no.”

 

“These are front row, centre, though,” Eames objected, “I can’t accept these.”

 

“Of course you can,” Arthur huffed, feeling out of his comfort zone. “If you’re going to see it, you might as well see it in the best seats available.”

 

“You won’t kill me if I hug you, will you, pet?” The Forger teased, setting the box on the couch between them.

 

“Wha--” was all Arthur managed to get out before he was enveloped in the warm, comforting embrace of Eames’s arms. Arthur allowed his eyes to fall closed as Eames encircled him, Arthur wrapping his own arms around the other man. It was far more personal than he would ever be comfortable with on a normal day, but it was so soothing to feel the Forger’s fingers skim down his back and dig in slightly to pull him closer. There was something about Eames’s touch that made Arthur desire for it to become familiar.

 

But sooner than he would have liked, even though he could not explain that desire, Eames pulled away. “Sorry, darling, I know how much you hate physical contact, but I’m really grateful for the gift.” Arthur shrugged the apology off, too confused with his own thoughts to tell Eames he didn’t mind – Arthur might do something embarrassing like ask him to hold him for the rest of the night. “I have something for you as well,” the Forger grinned and slid off the couch to grab a hidden parcel far under the tree.

 

“You really didn’t have to...” Arthur trailed off when the parcel was set in his lap, about the size of a small shoe box but heavier.

 

“Nonsense. I thought of you the moment I saw it,” Eames admitted, prodding him to hurry up and open it. Arthur did so, carefully tearing off the wrappings. He was aware of everyone else in the room, even the Cobb children, abandoning their previous conversations and activities to watch curiously.

 

When the wrappings were removed, he found that he was, in fact, looking at a shoe box. But when he pulled the lid off and saw what was nestled inside, a tiny gasp escaped his lips. “Eames, it’s _gorgeous._ Where did you _find_ this?” was all he managed to get out, pulling the Japanese puzzle box from its wrappings. It was absolutely gorgeous, carefully maintained and polished wood rather than the plastic materials modern companies made them out of these days. But even if that wasn’t enough of a giveaway to the antiquity of the gift, Arthur traced along the delicately painted designs on the wood, seeing that they were faded but preserved. He felt honoured to be holding this, feeling as though he should donate it to a museum.

 

“I was in the East for a job or two, which you know already, I’m sure,” Eames shuffled closer, their knees brushing again; Arthur didn’t rise to the challenge. “I met a man who specialized in puzzle boxes, but all of the ones he was selling seemed too...modern and easy for you. When I described you to him, he showed me this. He told me that it wasn’t for just anyone, but I assured him that you were special and that you would take care of it the way it deserves.”

 

“Is it still functional?” he questioned curiously, trying to regain control of his emotions before he said much else; Eames’s proclamation that he was special had brought a pleasant fog over his mind. He distracted himself with tracing the pad of a finger along the minute grooves between the different pieces of wood, aware that there were very complex mechanisms hidden underneath.

 

“Oh yeah, he’s been taking care of it. He even showed me a few steps but said he’d leave the rest for me to watch you complete,” the Forger laughed. “I wish you luck; he said it’s five hundred and four steps to the solution.”

 

Arthur scoffed in disbelieve. “You’d have to hang around for a long time to see me complete _that_.”

 

“I don’t see any problem with that,” Eames retorted quietly.

 

Disarmed by the comment and not knowing how to recover, Arthur was thankful when James let out a loud yawn, quickly passing it onto Phillipa and then around the room. “I think we better get James and Phillipa ready for bed,” Dom stated, pulling himself from the couch where he had been in a quiet, in-depth conversation with Ariadne. He received a wave of tired groans and complaints, but both children picked themselves off the carpet slowly.

 

“I suppose I better get going as well,” Arthur said as he delicately rewrapped his precious gift.

 

“Yup, me too,” Eames nodded and stretched.

 

“Absolutely not,” Dom objected immediately. “You’re not going out in that weather. You’re staying for at least the night and breakfast tomorrow, though I hold no responsibility if the kids talk you into staying longer than that.”

 

“We couldn’t impose,” Arthur protested, not wanting to intrude.

 

He knew they were doomed, though, when Phillipa and James raced across the room and climbed into their laps, effectively pinning the two dream workers to the couch for the onslaught of adorable manipulation. “But who will read us our bedtime story?” Phillipa questioned, executing expert puppy dog eyes. James nodded vigorously and widened his own eyes sadly.

 

“That’s just not fair,” Eames groaned, holding James closer.

 

“Well that’s settled then,” Dom smirked. “I’ll get them ready for bed. Ariadne, could you get Arthur and Eames set up in the second spare room since you’re settled in the first?” Arthur raised an eyebrow at that but didn’t comment, wondering why Dom and Ariadne were not sharing a bed with now affectionate and familiar they had been acting today. Maybe they hadn’t gotten there yet – and maybe they never would, Arthur just assuming about their attraction – or maybe Cobb was worried about his kids so soon after Mal.

 

“Absolutely,” Ariadne saluted Dom, still very energetic despite the late hour and how much the Architect had done that day already. “This way, guys,” she motioned them towards the stairs after they had locked the doors and turned off all the main floor lights. The two remaining dream workers grabbed their overnight bags and Arthur realized that the new bag beside his travel bag had been placed there by the Forger. They trailed up the stairs behind Ariadne and followed her into the first bedroom they saw; Dom had herded Phillipa and James upstairs already.

 

“There’s only one bed,” Arthur stated pointlessly when he stepped into the bedroom. True, it was a queen sized bed with plenty of room for two, but his mind was screeching to a halt all the same.

 

“Yeah, sorry about that; I have the other spare bedroom,” Ariadne apologized, but Arthur thought the girl didn’t sound like she meant it at all.

 

“We’ll figure something out, darling,” Eames assured him when Ariadne ducked out of the room to find some fresh sheets and pillowcases, sounding equally thrilled and nervous. With nothing else to do, Arthur set his bag down beside Eames’s as the Architect returned with blankets.

 

Ariadne excused herself for the evening, giving them both a tight hug before heading off to her own room. Arthur and Eames began making the bed together, working in harmony to tuck the sheets in and shove the pillows into their pillowcases. Once that was finished, Arthur excused himself into the adjoined bathroom to change into his pyjama pants and a loose t-shirt and to brush his teeth for bed.

 

When he was finished and re-entered the bedroom, he found the room empty. Wondering where Eames had gotten to, Arthur slipped out into the hallway and padded down the carpeted hallway. It didn’t take him long to find the Forger, the man’s voice unmistakeable as it read out the familiar words of famous Christmas stories. Arthur found the children’s room and leaned against the doorframe to watch Eames read the Cobb children their bedtime stories.

 

Eames was seated on one of the kid’s beds, James curled up on one side of him and Phillipa snuggled close on the other. The Forger had the large book spread out on his lap so that the kids could see the colourful pictures after each page turn. Eames paused when he noticed Arthur, flashing a brilliant smile. Arthur sent the man his own warm smile but did not say anything, not wanting to interrupt the story. Besides, he would hate to ruin the moment in front of him as he affectionately watched Eames read to the children.

 

For the briefest, most startling moment, Arthur could imagine doing this every night. He could just see himself tucking his own child into bed and then watching affectionately, just as he was now, as Eames read their child a bedtime story. It was an equally exhilarating and unsettling thought, but was not enough to make him leave the sight before his eyes. Eames was glancing up at him with increased frequency until it looked like he was reading Arthur the story.

 

Finally the story came to its end and Eames carefully extracted himself from the bed. Dom returned at that moment, changed for bed, and slipped past Arthur with a small smile to move Phillipa onto the empty bed. Eames helped James under his own covers and then joined Arthur by the door while Dom said goodnight to his bleary-eyed children. The light flicked off and Cobb pulled the door closed behind him, the three dream workers alone in the hallway. “Thanks Eames,” Dom glanced between them happily. “I’m really glad you both came.”

 

“It was enjoyable to see everyone again,” Arthur confessed happily, “I’m glad I came.”

 

“Me too,” Eames grinned. “I’m glad I had more time with James and Phillipa this time around. They’re adorable.”

 

“Yes, I’m glad things were a little more cheerful this time around,” Dom nodded. Arthur’s attention perked since Eames had not mentioned anything about his previous visit that had sounded less than cheerful. “I’ll let you two get to sleep though. Merry Christmas and see you in the morning for breakfast.”

 

“Merry Christmas.” Arthur and Eames spoke in unison and headed back to their room while Dom headed further down the hallway towards the master bedroom.

 

Eames excused himself to the bathroom when they arrived back to their room, disappearing quickly. Arthur shut the door and turned off the bedside lamps, only leaving the warm glow of the ceiling light to brighten the room. He sat on the edge of the bed uncertainly, unsure of what they’d do about the single bed.

 

Eames reappeared shortly after and Arthur couldn’t help but rake his eyes up the Forger’s form. The man was in loose pyjama pants that showed the dip of Eames’s hipbones, but was shirtless. Arthur had an excellent view of Eames’s broad, muscular chest, and a large expanse of skin, tanned from the tropical locations the dream worker preferred. “I hope you don’t mind,” Eames said as way of apology, “I always overheat when I sleep in a shirt.”

 

“It’s fine,” Arthur fidgeted with the hem of his own shirt, ignoring the sudden feeling that he should peel off his own.

 

“So...” Eames hummed thoughtfully, sitting down beside him on the mattress, “What are we going to do about this?” Arthur felt his shoulders and back stiffen, completely out of his element. Their mistletoe kiss was still seared into his mind, his lips desperate to feel Eames’s against his own again. He wanted to do it again – he wanted to do _more_ – but he didn’t want to deal with the Forger moving on the next day, leaving him behind. “You know what, darling?” Eames’s voice jolted him out of his own thoughts, drawing his attention. “Don’t worry about it. You take the bed and I’ll use the extra pillows and duvet in the closet to sleep on the floor.”

 

“No, absolutely not,” the thought guiltily of Eames sleeping uncomfortably on the floor while he took an entire queen sized bed to himself.

 

“Seriously, Arthur, I don’t mind,” Eames brushed his fingers along Arthur’s leg comfortingly before slipping from the bed. “It’s clear you’re not comfortable so just get under those blankets and get cosy.

 

Arthur considered protesting again, or demanding that he sleep on the floor instead. But the Forger’s warning look sent him towards the headboards to slip under the blankets. He watched while Eames pulled a pile of extra pillows from the closet and spread them across the floor and unfurled a spare duvet. He felt terribly guilty and lonely, lying under the blankets alone as Eames sent him a final smile, flicked off the ceiling light, and return to his makeshift bed.

 

The Point Man lay there in the darkness, listening to the Forger’s breathing. He weathered his lip for a moment, reliving the moment where Eames had nibbled his lower lip. Arthur considered the entire evening and what had happened, and worked up his courage to speak. “Eames?” he whispered, worried the other man might already be asleep. He received a grunt though, and took a steadying breath. “Can I ask you a question?”

 

“Didn’t give me much of a choice, did you?” Eames teased, sounding wide awake. Arthur fell silent, wondering if this was a bad idea. He heard Eames clear his throat. “You can always talk to me about what’s on your mind, darling.”

 

The words filled Arthur with a sense of safety and confidence, something he was normally capable of creating for himself. He didn’t allow it to bother him though, instead deciding to throw caution to the wind and trust his teammate. “Did the others seem...odd to you tonight? It seemed like they were herding us around and smirking all the time.”

 

He heard the sound of a duvet shifting and then Eames sighing. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure they were conspiring to try to get us together,” Eames proclaimed blandly.

 

Arthur blinked up at the dark ceiling in surprise, feeling his stomach jump. “Us together?” he repeated, intrigued by the idea but concerned with the Forger’s annoyed tone.

 

“Yes, as in you and me dating,” Eames grumbled. Arthur could only assume the other dream worker had buried his head under the duvet with how muffled his voice sounded. “I wouldn’t let it bother you.”

 

Even though he had not considered Eames as anything more than a team member and friend before this night, and was still very confused about the feelings fluttering inside him, Arthur was suddenly certain of what he wanted to do. He sat up against the headboard, blankets pooling around his waist as he flicked the nearest bedside lamp on. “Eames, would you come here a moment?” Eames let out a confused grunt before pulling himself from his line of pillows to sit on the edge of the bed again. “Closer,” Arthur demanded, borrowing courage from his stubborn determination.

 

Eames furrowed his eyebrows but moved to sit cross legged in the middle of the bed, staring at him expectantly. Arthur shuffled closer so that he was sitting right in front of the other man, their knees brushing through the layers of blankets. “What are you doing, pet?” Eames questioned him but fell silent with Arthur’s quieting glance.

 

Feeling bold, Arthur copied Eames’s earlier motion and cupped the Forger’s face with his hands. He skimmed his fingers over sun-kissed skin, touching cheekbones much softer than his own, tracing a powerful jaw line, and feeling the unique sensation of two-day stubble on the pads of his fingers. He watched Eames’s beautiful eyes, which had always been capable of captivating him even before looking at the man in the way he was now. The colours there were muted in the dim lighting, but they were soft as they watched Arthur’s face.

 

He traced his fingers over Eames’s entire face, re-evaluating something he had previously considered categorized; now he was realizing that there was a whole new way of looking at Eames. The man’s eyebrow with a scar through it that no doubt held an interesting tale. The man’s full, tempting lips, which were quirking up into a charming smile as Arthur’s fingers danced.

 

While he was tracing the Forger’s skin, Arthur was silently reconsidering Eames. Everything about the visit made sense now – being herded to and fro to be alone with Eames, the table being set up to seat them side by side, the mistletoe – and he was, for once, grateful for his team members’ prying. After all, without them leading him towards Eames, he never would have known how comforting it was for him to sit close to the other man. Arthur would have never realized how content he felt in Eames’s presence, or how addicting the Forger’s lips truly were.

 

Arthur didn’t see any disgust in Eames’s face, so close to his own; he only saw curiosity and hesitant hope. So, with all of the hope and courage he had, he held Eames’s face a little tighter between his palms and leaned forward to capture those lips. He was slow and tentative as he slanted their lips together, ready to pull away if he heard any protests, but Eames did not pull away. Instead, the kiss seemed to follow the pattern of the mistletoe kiss; it was careful and shy, but delightfully harmonious.

 

He pulled away after a moment, pretty sure he had just received his answer but wanting to voice his concern anyway. Eames had kissed him back, but that just left Arthur more confused about the Forger’s dull tone when telling him to forget about the team’s meddling. “Do you consider the idea of us to be unappealing?”

 

“ _What_?” Eames exclaimed, reeling backwards so that Arthur was forced to drop his hands into his lap. Eames immediately scooped them up again, twining their fingers of both hands together. “Arthur, I’m _in love_ with you!”

 

“ _What_?” It was Arthur’s time to reel, though he allowed Eames to maintain a steadying grasp on his hands. He had been entertaining the idea that the Forger might find him appealing, and might be interested in dating. Instead, he had received a very assured, very passionate declaration of love.

 

“Oh shit, I shouldn’t have blurted that out!” Eames cursed under his breath. “Please don’t freak out,” Eames pleaded a moment later, no doubt panicking himself when Arthur didn’t respond. “I’m sorry I came out and said it that way because I know you prefer emotional distance, and that was also the most unromantic way of declaring one’s love. But it’s true, darling, and I’ve wanted to tell you for so long.”

 

“You...” Arthur was trying to regain control of his racing heart and thoughts, “Are in love with me.” He tested out the words; they felt heavy but comforting and safe to say. He watched Eames nod and couldn’t help but ask, “Why?”

 

“Why, love?” Eames scoffed, holding their combined hands aloft to tenderly kiss each one of Arthur’s fingers. “Because of everything. I love the way you can remain calm, professional and incredibly intelligent and brave when the situation demands it, but how you will always be supportive and protective of your team – we are always our top priority, no matter how important the end goal is to you. I love your dry sense of wit and melt every time you smile; I just wish I got more opportunities to experience it.”

 

Eames kept listing off points as he kissed along the sensitive skin of Arthur’s fingers. Your gorgeous, expressive eyes that allow me to know what you’re feeling even when the rest of you is a mask of indifference. _Kiss_. The way you always challenge me to do bigger and better things, and to never give up for fear of making mistakes. _Kiss_. How attentive you are, even when you pretend or try not to be. _Kiss_.

 

“There’s no one reason, Arthur,” Eames finished off softly, a short time later when Arthur’s blush had fully developed. “You were a wonderful teammate, and an incredibly valuable friend. It was only natural for that to develop into more every time I had the chance to work with you. After the Fischer job it got so bad that I’d take jobs just because I knew it would pop up on your radar. And eventually I missed you so terribly that I flew all the way here to beg Cobb for your number.”

 

“So that’s why you were looking for me?” Arthur’s mind was spinning, but he was being filled with a definite sense of warmth and affection.

 

“Poor Dom and Ariadne,” Eames shook his head, embarrassed. “I wouldn’t stop moping about you the whole time I was here. That’s probably why they decided to meddle today,” the Forger mused. “I know I sound sad and pathetic, pet,” Eames sighed, “And I really am sorry because I know this is a huge overload of emotions and intimacy for you...but that’s the truth. I _adore_ you.”

 

Arthur had been worried about panicking at Eames’s declaration, his mind withdrawing from the love and intimacy in the other man’s words and eyes. Instead, all he could feel was calm as Eames’s thumbs grazed along the backs of his hands soothingly. Arthur’s heart was singing. “But you never said anything.”

 

“I always thought you hated me; I was too scared that you would reject me, so I just settled for what you would give me,” Eames admitted, giving him a sad smile.

 

“Since when are you scared of anything?” Arthur scoffed, thinking back to Eames’s habit of flirting with everything he came into contact with.

 

“As much as I appreciate the vote of confidence, darling, I will honestly say that I was terrified of confessing my feelings.” Eames had shuffled a little closer, warmth radiating between their close bodies while the Forger still kept a steady grip on Arthur’s hands. “I had never even seen you entertain a casual fling before, and what I wanted with you was much more dangerous and committed than that. I figured that besides the disinterest, it would just be too much to demand from you.”

 

“I had never truly thought of you that way,” Arthur confessed. “But now that I think about it, I never really did consider anyone else more appealing than you.” Arthur recalled his list of realizations from this evening at Cobb’s house, recognizing now that he had always seen Eames as the perfect match. “But I had assumed that your flirting never meant more than to tease, and that if you _did_ want me, it would never be for longer than a fling.”

 

“I’ve wanted much more than a casual fling, pet,” Eames gave him a little ‘tsk tsk’. “I want to crawl into bed with you every night and wake up the next morning with you by my side. I want to kiss you and claim you and call you my own. I want to take you as my date to see _Carmen_ , stay around long enough to watch you solve that Japanese puzzle box, and to continue working in and experiencing the dream world with you. All in all, love,” Eames took a deep breath, “I want to share my life with you.”

 

“Well...” Arthur trailed off, overwhelmed by Eames’s praise and devotion, “What are you waiting for?” He knew it wasn’t a declaration as open and bold as Eames’s had been, and he hoped the Forger didn’t mind the fact that he was still new to these emotions sparking inside him.

 

He was reassured when Eames grinned at him, released his hands only to cup his face, and effectively kissed Arthur senseless. The feel of Eames’s lips on his own set his nerve endings on fire as Arthur – this time without an audience or uncertainty in the air – eagerly returned the kiss. Eames groaned into his mouth when he felt Arthur’s increased vigour and nibbled his lip again, pulling another gasp from the Point Man.

 

This time, however, instead of allowing Arthur to slip away, Eames pressed closer and slipped his tongue through Arthur’s parted lips. He opened his mouth further, giving Eames full access as he felt a hot, talented tongue explore every inch of his mouth. He felt Eames rest one hand on each of his shoulders and push him backwards, soon finding himself lying back on the mattress. An indecent moan vibrated through him when he felt Eames crawl on top of him, the Forger’s delicious weight and warmth pressing down into him while the kiss continued.

 

As desperate as he was for this to continue on indefinitely, doubtful that he’d ever grow tired of the feel of his partner’s lips on his own, Arthur regretfully tilted his head to the side. The kiss was broken and Eames pulled away slightly to regard him fully. The Forger looked flushed and blissful, watching him curiously. “What’s wrong?”

 

“As much as I want to go further,” Arthur whispered softly, biting his lower lip just to drive Eames crazy, “I think we should stop for tonight. I don’t want to rush things and I don’t really feel comfortable doing this with James and Phillipa, not to mention Dom and Ariadne, down the hall.”

 

Eames gave a distressed whine but nodded, slowly removing his weight and warmth; Arthur’s body screamed for it’s return immediately. “You’re right, love,” Eames pressed another kiss to his lips, but it was much more innocent and chaste this time. “If I waited this long, I can wait another few days. But I hope I’m still allowed to sleep with you.”

 

“I was hoping you’d want to,” Arthur smiled, following Eames towards the middle of the bed when his companion shuffled backwards.

 

“You know I want to,” Eames helped organize the pile of pillows to their advantage before settling down on his side. He regarded Arthur lazily, leaving Arthur with the decision of how close he would sleep next to Eames.

 

Wanting to soak up Eames’s close proximity once again, Arthur pulled off his shirt and flung it to the floor before he flicked off the bedside lamp and flipped onto his side as well. He shuffled backwards, tentatively slotting his back against Eames’s bare chest. The Forger slowly wound one arm over Arthur’s hip, pulling him tighter against the other man, and drew relaxing designs on the bare skin of his stomach. Their legs tangled together, bare skin connecting there as well where the hem of their pants had ridden up.

 

“Goodnight, love,” Eames whispered by his ear, dropping a gentle kiss to his neck before Arthur felt the man bury his face against the juncture of Arthur’s neck and collarbone.

 

“Sleep well, Merry Christmas,” he muttered back, exhausted. It was incredibly warm, lying in Eames’s arms, and the feel of Eames’s heartbeat against his back quickly lulled him to sleep.

 

#

 

Arthur was jolted awake by the sound of delighted squeals and then the weight of the two small Cobb children clamouring onto his bed. He blinked his eyes open blurrily, trying to assess what was going on. The first thing he noticed was the strong, warm body of Eames beside him, who was also stirring into consciousness with the racket. The second thing he noticed was the way they were situated. Eames was sprawled on his back while Arthur was tucked against his side, held closer by the Forger’s arm winding around his waist. Arthur’s head was nestled against Eames’s neck, one of his hands was splayed across the man’s bare chest, and he had one leg hooked over Eames’s left one. It was beyond comfortable and entirely inappropriate for children to witness.

 

That was when he noticed what James and Phillipa were chanting as they jumped on the foot of their bed, rousing them further. “Operation Christmas is a success!” They both repeated again and again, giggling and cheering loudly.

 

“What’s Operation Christmas?” he ground out after shushing the kids into a more calm and quiet state.

 

“Daddy and Ari’s plan,” Phillipa was grinning ear to ear. “’To make Uncle Arthur realize how much he loves Uncle Eames,’” she seemed to recite the words, looking proud.

 

“Loves Uncle Eames!” James repeated, tackling the dream workers’ twined legs.

 

Arthur could see that Eames was awake now, looking dozy and contented. When he saw that, he didn’t even feel the need to pull away when Dom and Ariadne showed up in their open doorframe a moment later, no doubt drawn to the noise. The Extractor and Architect blinked at them and then grinned, looking smug. “Sorry for the interruption; I sent them up to wake you for breakfast,” Dom smirked.

 

“Looks like you two got pretty close,” Ariadne giggled, looking even more triumphant than Dom did. Arthur wouldn’t put it past her for being the creator of this plan.

 

Eames hummed happily, using his perfectly-situated arm to pull Arthur into an even closer embrace. “Apparently I have something called Operation Christmas to thank for my lovely armful.”

 

“You do,” Ariadne crossed her arms, looking expectant.

 

Eames hummed again, this time sounding thoughtful. “I think, instead of thanking you, I’m going to kiss my love,” Eames proclaimed boldly before tilting Arthur’s face up and locking their lips together. It was an incredibly wonderful way to wake up, the kiss chaste but still managing to send the butterflies in his heart into a frenzy.

 

They pulled away a moment later when James and Phillipa began clapping and cheering excitedly, still happy that their plan had worked. Dom was smiling from the doorframe but Ariadne scoffed. “That’s the last time I help you get anything.”

 

Eames just chuckled, staring at Arthur lovingly. “There’s nothing else I could ever need,” the Forger whispered, more for the Point Man’s ears than for anyone else. This time it was Arthur who initiated the kiss, still beaming at the words when their lips met. Dom snorted and beckoned his children from the bed to give the dream workers some space, warning them as everyone headed back downstairs that their breakfast was going to get cold. Arthur waved him off and eagerly deepened the kiss, halfway on top of Eames now - pancakes were the last thing on his mind.

**Author's Note:**

> **You can check out[here](http://onewhositswiththeturtles.tumblr.com/) to follow my Tumblr for info about me and story updates.**


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